Identity Archives - Page 9 of 28

In Identity, Minimalism, Nurture, Personal Growth, Relationships, Spiritual Life, University, Writing

Recalibrate

Julianne HarveySeptember 7, 2018

My word for the summer has been recalibrate. Not in any scientific form, but a subtle yet intentional change to the way I function in the world.

The greatest aspect of this particular recalibration has been the decision to step back and allow the process to unfold organically. In previous versions of my self development, I’ve tended to force, cajole, urge and shame my change into being. I wanted it done now, dammit, and a specific way.

Not this summer. I felt inspired by a Facebook post from my friend in late June that said, “You have 18 summers with your kids. Don’t waste them.” I took these words to heart. I stopped looking at leisure time as wasted time. I mixed work with play and I felt a lot more relaxed and content.

This recalibration took the form of my general attitude shifting from something set into something more fluid. I tried to take things as they happened, as opposed to forecasting and planning too far into the future. I wrote in my journal a lot, without trying to be fancy or inspired. I just recorded what I was feeling and this practice helped me to slow down internally.

I’ve realized that the process of querying agents and facing a ton of rejection has tampered down my capacity to take risks and to write for the sheer joy of telling a story without thinking about whether or not that work can be published. I’ve just begun two university courses for the fall and both are centred on writing. I’m determined to challenge myself to grow in these courses and not expect that I’ll be the most stellar writer in the class.

Hopefully my spiritual recalibration this summer will offer me a fresh dose of grace and gentleness toward the writing that I do. In this season, I hope to simply be a better version of myself and write from that place with lowered expectations for jaw-dropping genius and a place on the New York Times Bestseller List.

One of my words for 2018 was enough. I can see how this word has been working on me over the last few months. I am enough, just as I am, and so are you. It’s easy to get stuck in a pattern of proving our worth, but this striving brings pain, shame and loss. Feeling like we are enough is a challenge, but it’s well worth the effort.

Part of recalibrating my attitude involves surrendering once again to the flow of this life. Forcing my hoped-for expectations on myself or others or situations is a fool’s errand. I long to swim with the current and not against it. Take it one day at a time, as the recovery movement teaches. Anything else is too uncertain and fraught with peril.

What we have is now. We have the people we love most. We have our own deep well of personality to excavate and mine. We have the chance for contentment, hope and peace. We have kindness, shown first to our fragile selves and then to the world around us. My soul recalibration this summer has given me a fresh perspective on all of these things. Knowing I am enough is a daily battle, but I will fight it, for these moments are precious ones and I want to be fully awake to experience them.

In Culture, Identity, Minimalism, Nurture, Parenting, Personal Growth, Relationships

Space

Julianne HarveyMay 16, 2018

Lately I’ve had one word front and centre in my mind and experience: SPACE.

Space to be human. Space to breathe. Space to exist, to think, to discover, to play.

In our modern existence, where so much of life is done behind a screen (or one of my biggest pet peeves, which proves we are living in the forecasted future robot age: people walking in public spaces while staring vacantly at a tiny glowing machine in their hand), anything that brings us back to our own bodies and offers space from machines is becoming an urgent priority.

At the beginning of May, Jason and I went to Seattle to see Rob Bell on his Holy Shift tour. We met up with 4 friends who flew in from Calgary for the evening and a marvellous time was had by all. Both Rob Bell and his opening act (the hilarious Irish author Peter Rollins, who introduced himself by saying “I sell existential despair for money”) mentioned the word space during the tour. I love that feeling of kismet, when you are pondering a concept and others are recognizing its importance at the same time.

We have to work harder than ever to build space into our lives. For me, minimalism is a helpful container for the idea of space, because minimalism is about stripping away what doesn’t matter so we can isolate what we actually do prioritize. Space facilitates this process, for we need to intentionally dial down cultural noise in order to arrive at what we are really on this earth to be or do.

Pete Rollins spoke about how we have to define ourselves by who we aren’t before we can figure out who we are. This has stuck with me. Space comes into this because we are in desperate need of room to explore and discover what matters most to us in a world that is constantly invested in selling us what we don’t require.

I’m working on creating space in several areas of my life:

My Schedule

I’ve never been happier than now, when I’ve cut so much out of my calendar. Saying no to things I don’t want to do feels bloody fantastic and gives me leisure time to enjoy the activities I do want to do.

My Relationships

Carefully curating the people I allow into my inner circle has radically shifted my peace of mind. I want safe people around me. Encouraging ones. Friends who make me laugh. Those I can count on to tell the truth and be there when the chips are down.

My Inner Life

This one is critical. It involves refusing to stop scrolling through my phone whenever I have a spare moment. I’m determined to allow space here for my soul to expand, breathe, heal and grow.

Our world is a dangerous, unsettled place and we need every available person to wake up and stop numbing with distractions. We need to tune back in, to ourselves first, and then to other actual human beings. To listen to one another. This is the way back home, to better priorities and more meaningful values.

For the last few months I’ve been trying a “name tag” experiment where I refer to anyone in a name tag by their name. I attempt to start a conversation, even if it’s awkward (especially if it’s awkward). The amount of people ordering coffees or buying groceries while staring mindlessly at their phones is alarming. Real flesh-and-blood people are serving us and we can’t even make eye contact? I’m done doing that. My phone stays in my purse.

Space is a valuable commodity. Let’s build it in. The process of waking up to our own lives is profound. Everything has been here, this whole time…trees, sun, flowers, birds singing, cats sleeping curled up like croissants, mothers walking down the street holding hands with toddlers, the barista carefully preparing your specialty coffee while she is being ignored, the people we love most going about their lives while we’ve been too busy to dial in and notice.

Make the space. You won’t get chances forever. The good stuff is right here, right now. It’s time to wake up and pay attention.

In Culture, Identity, Nurture, Personal Growth

To Struggle is Human

Julianne HarveyApril 19, 2018

This is a public service announcement that it’s okay to struggle. You are only human, after all, and not one of us is getting out of here alive. So try to keep your chin up. Eat the chocolate. Remember that another day is coming.

It’s always easier to accept mess and mistakes from others than from ourselves. Gentleness is the key, even when we don’t feel particularly competent or brave. Especially then.

What if it’s enough to simply try your best, even if the results are not as spectacular as you imagined? In fact, try not to aim for out-of-this-world amazing. Go for decent instead. Then you can lay your head on your pillow at the end of a long day and remind yourself, “I was good enough today.”

When we feel hollow at the centre of our being, it doesn’t necessarily mean we are missing something. It might simply be a signal to slow down, to get quiet, to become reacquainted with our authentic self by intentionally tuning out the noise all around us.

Happiness lies in acceptance. We won’t always feel triumphant and terrific. The reverse experience is also valid, as the lows must balance those highs. Sadness anchors our joy. Every emotion is an ingredient in the stew that makes up our human existence. It’s our expectations that repeatedly fuck us up.

Patience, grace, leisure. These matter as much as ambition, meaning and productivity. Some days we may not feel like our best selves, and this is absolutely fine. Try opening up your hands and holding loosely to the things that matter to you. Balance remains elusive, even when everything is clicking, but to quote the great and wise Oprah, “There is no such thing as balance. Only choices.”

Some seasons we give, others we receive. Allow yourself to feel what is happening to you and in you, even if it refuses to adhere to the script you’ve written. You are enough, for whatever comes your way. Take some time to just be human, with all of your unique complexities, frailties and fears.

We are here. We are doing our best. We are worthy, even in the midst of the struggle. We can eat the chocolate and refuse to feel guilty. Tomorrow is another day.

In Books, Culture, Identity, Minimalism, Nurture, Parenting, Personal Growth, Relationships, Speaking, Writing

An Ordinary Life

Julianne HarveyApril 10, 2018

Lately I find myself longing for an ordinary life.

On any given day, we all face so much pressure to be extraordinary. Social media scrolling can give us a case of the “less-thans”, the news entices us to drink, the job market feels hopeless and we wonder if we are doing enough to stand out from the crowd and be noticed.

It’s bloody exhausting.

I just finished reading Mark Manson’s book The Subtle Art of Not Giving a Fuck. So many of his ideas resonated on a deep level, offering a lovely echo chamber of my own curated thoughts, but the section on being ordinary was particularly timely. If you are looking for a short, profane and meaningful read, I highly recommend it.

What if we simply opted out of trying to be amazing and instead learned to be content with being good enough? As our world gets louder, I long for quiet. When other people broadcast their accomplishments around the clock on social media, I yearn for humility and privacy.

It’s okay to want less. To decide that who you are and what you accomplish doesn’t need national (or even local) acclaim. Wouldn’t it be lovely to just exist, in our own families and with our friends, and truly believe that everything we eat, say, do, watch, read and think does not belong on Instagram, Facebook, Twitter or a blog?

Something interesting is happening in our culture right now, with the attention on Zuckerberg and questions about privacy. For years I’ve been saying in my digital boundary presentation (and to anyone else who cares) that privacy is going to be our most valuable currency in the years to come. I believe it to the core of my soul.

So the question becomes: what are we doing to safeguard our own privacy? How do we take back control of our own unique and precious lives?

I’m bone weary of wasting my time on the crack cocaine of social media. I post less and less but I still scroll far too much. I’m afraid of what’s coming and I’m trying to summon the courage to close it down and walk away. I know I would be happier if I did exactly that but then how would I stay in touch with people? How would readers find me as a writer?

I’m not sure those fears outweigh the cost of what social media has done to my sense of identity, my jealousy over the success of others when I am struggling, my own raging insecurities that leap to the forefront when I give myself over to something that has the power to repeatedly hurt me.

The answer is not yet clear to me, but I’m committed to asking these questions until I decide what’s really best for me. How do the rest of you handle social media and your digital lives? I know I’m not alone in longing for an ordinary, private existence. I’d love to hear from you.

In Books, Identity, Nurture, Personal Growth, Speaking, Writing

The Flashlight of Criticism

Julianne HarveyMarch 29, 2018

When we face criticism, we can spiral down in a funnel of shame, feeling less-than and outed for pretending to be better than we really are.

Or maybe that’s just me, because possibly my childhood was not as stellar as yours.

I know it’s unhealthy to attach my self-worth to my performance. These things are my products: writing, speaking, acting, grades; my identity is something different. This distinction is oh-so-clear in my head and not so obvious in my experience.

Everything in the arts is subjective. One person loves what you’ve written or taught, and the next person thinks it’s boring and useless. As a writer, I’ve volunteered to be criticized to try to make my work stronger and more effective. In a cold, clinical setting, I do understand this.

But in my heart it’s something different. Being told what is “wrong” with my manuscript is painful in some intricate way. It reminds me of how far I have yet to go to make my dreams into reality. I do realize that all writers face this. I’ve been through classes and writers’ groups before, processing negative feedback, but I still hurt at first.

Maybe it’s time to just allow this. To feel it, and not to attempt to rationalize it away or explain it. Some feedback wounds because we have more internal healing work to do. The criticism is a flashlight revealing our hidden chasms where shame and fear lurk in the darkness.

The key might be to reach out to the cheerleaders in our lives when we get knocked down. To ask for love and support so we can summon the energy to keep going, to continue believing that we are onto something as long as we don’t quit. Rough work is better than no work when it comes to creativity. Revisions exist to fix the little things.

I’m loving the process of working on this new YA novel. I don’t want to forget that. It’s fun to write, even if it’s not everyone’s cup of tea. It’s the book I longed to find on the shelf when I was 15 years old and that kind of passion is worth pursuing.

Often a pain that doesn’t fit with the circumstances is an indication that an old wound is being disturbed. That’s what I felt last week through a workshop round of mild criticism: a very old childhood fear that I am simply not good enough to compete in the arena I want to work in. The only way to combat this is to keep going anyway. To feel it, acknowledge it, cry a few tears, and then get back to work.